


The Quiet Season

by quietpagan



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: April and Splinter being bros, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietpagan/pseuds/quietpagan
Summary: The power’s out, winter is coming, and all her friends are cold-blooded. One-short of April and Splinter bonding during a long winter. No pairings.





	

She knew Splinter was awake before she’d even touched his shoulder, but she nonetheless shook him gently and plopped a large gym bag onto the couch beside him.

“The power’s out again,” she whispered against a faint, persistent beeping of an alarm. “Pack all the food; there’s a fireplace and a wood stove in the house in Northhampton.”

Donatello had rigged the lair up until it was nearly choking in wires and generators, all held together with duct tape and luck, and even when the city above was lost for power the lair stayed warm and bright. But New York got colder, and the storms grew stronger, and the power cables could only hold up to so much. A sewer with uncertain heat was no place for four turtles, mutants or no.

She piled every blanket and quilt she could find in a large sheet and shrugged a bag full of necessities across her shoulders just as Splinter awoke the brothers and told them of the move. Crime-fighting could wait; the cold would not. She braved the sleet-filled wind above and got the van started and warmed up before giving the family the all-clear; it was only early evening, still light enough to see, but the snow pressed down on all sides and no one was out walking in the weather. Splinter and the brothers made it outside with relative haste, lingering in the cold only long enough to ensure secrecy.

The journey from the lair to her powerless apartment was a brisk and tough one, and as she went to collect a quick bag and lock her door the temperature drop within the building was distinct. The brothers huddled in the back of the van under a pile of quilts and she drove with the heat on full blast, smiling at the jokes they made and quietly worrying about how much fainter their voices were.

The farmhouse looked unnerving in the van’s headlights, but the electricity was still working and she quickly put the boys to work piling as much firewood from the shed into the dining room as they could, as well as anything else made of wood that they picked up on the way. Donatello got to work checking on the power and fixing any burst pipes, but they were all slow and sluggish, even when the ancient heating unit finally kicked in. April made a single trip to the town’s one grocery store before the storm hit on the second evening, burst several of the pipes again, and kicked the bucket out from underneath the heater.

The decision to have the brothers sleep through the winter was made quickly and with little argument; April and Splinter were given a list of instructions, mainly on hydration and temperature levels as the boys gathered up anything useful from the barn so that the two wouldn’t have to go outside unnecessarily. Donatello made her memorize everything as she stripped every bed, chair, and sofa of their covers and cushions to make a huge, hollowed nest in a corner of the living room. By the time they all went down she was quite glad to see Donny’s eyes (and especially mouth) close, but when night fell she found herself fretting. What if they got too cold? What if she couldn’t build the heat up? What if they didn’t wake up?

Splinter took her out of her thoughts to make her help close down the house. Since their only heat would be coming from the kitchen and the living room, those two rooms and the water closet would be the only rooms in use, the rest shut behind closed doors. They dragged a mattress down the stairs and shuffled furniture out of the way to stick it between the fireplace and the turtle pile – it was too cold and they were too tired to make up separate beds – and then settled down for a chilly and fitful sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

They figured out an inventory and a plan for food and fuel rations in the morning. April had packed and bought enough for four overgrown teenage boys – all of them bottomless pits - so they were certainly not low on food, but cooking with only a fireplace and a single burner on the wood stove was going to be a challenge. The downstairs bathroom was the only room that still had working pipes and most of the pots in the kitchen were being used to either collect the water from the sink she left dripping or to melt snow, which would be used to keep the boys hydrated. Since they were being burned continuously the fireplace and the stove ate ridiculous amounts of wood, and April hoped the storm would break before the pile in the dining room ran out and they had to start burning furniture.

The wood stove pretty much took care of itself, but the fireplace needed constant tending. April had to get very good very quickly at building and maintaining a fire, which was significantly more difficult than she remembered it being; her dad had always made it look so easy. Splinter was surprisingly – or perhaps not so surprisingly – just as useless at it as her, and they spent the first day learning how to control the temperature, figuring out which woods made for hotter, quicker fires, and which were better for burning long into the night.

Eventually they settled into a slow, quiet routine. Baths were taken in front of the fireplace in a huge iron tub Raphael had dragged in from the barn, privacy ensured with the simple promise that the other wouldn’t look. With snow melted on the stove, it wasn’t particularly comfortable and they ended up smelling like rust and soap, but both were too fastidious to think of going without washing for longer than was really necessary. She’d laughed the first time she came out of the kitchen to find Splinter swallowed by a bathrobe belonging to her late and enormously fat grandfather, sitting as close to the fire as he’d dared, his fur poofed up and water dripping off the end of his tail as he and his usual robe patiently air-dried. April braved the chill of the rest of the house to go get him something that fit his short, sinewy frame a bit better; eventually the only thing she found was an old robe that had belonged to her granny. Splinter wore it with more dignity than a king in full regalia, even though mint green really wasn’t his color and the fussy fabric made him look even skinnier than usual. April made him stuff his bare toes into a pair of hideous yellow but warm winter socks, and smiled every time she looked at him.

With only three small rooms to stay in and very little heat, they stayed closer to each other’s company than April ever remembered. If she thought about it, she had never really just hung out with Splinter before. The brothers were so demanding, so big and loud in personality and presence, that they had always been her primary company. Splinter was the father, the sensei, the dad, and so not part of the main group – even though in years he truly wasn’t much older than the boys themselves. He had always seemed so much older, but April realized that she _herself_ actually had a few years on him. He may have been an adult at the time of his mutation, but he had little more – or perhaps even less – real-world experience than the brothers did. The revelation poured a sudden surge of protectiveness through her, and April spent that night being the big spoon, holding him as close as he allowed.

Days went by without either needing to say a word, although Splinter always bid her good morning and good night. April had never spent so much time in silence with another person; at first it had felt slightly oppressive, when she interpreted Splinter’s silence as a call for her own and was afraid to talk for fear of annoying him. But after a few days she began to understand why people went on silent retreats to monasteries and mountain cabins. The silence became a refuge, a relief. There was no need to make idle conversation or exchange pleasantries with someone she spent almost every hour with, and she learned more through Splinter’s body language alone than she had in years of knowing him.

Although he was not nearly as touchy as his sons were, April learned that he had no compunctions against huddling for warmth, something that he had probably gotten used to in the boys’ early years, before Donatello rigged up the lair for heat. He certainly did not like the cold. He would burrow his tail behind the back of the couch and his toes beneath her thighs as they read in the evenings, curling into her side if he was leaning on her or wrapping an arm over her shoulders if she leaned on him. More often than not she, being the taller one, was the big spoon at night, but sometimes she would wake up with arms crossed over her back and a furry neck in her face, whiskers tickling against her ear.

The majority of the farmhouse’s library had been unceremoniously dumped in a corner of the living room and she discovered that he would read anything, from history to romance, decorating books to fiction novellas.  You never know what might be useful, he would say; he was like one of the little old ladies who hoarded pieces of string, except that he collected bits of knowledge. They still practiced and trained and the exercise warmed them up, and though the living room was too small and too crowded to really be a proper training space, they spent every morning stretching and slowly practicing forms, meditating in the quietest spaces of the day.

If the day was a louder one, they would spend it telling stories during their activities or chores. Hearing about the brothers’ childhoods from Splinter’s point of view was fascinating, and the reporter in her relished in the feeling of a really good story. Splinter had a flair for the dramatic that made living in a sewer sound like something out of an old fantasy novel, and the insights into the world he and the brothers had lived in for the majority of their lives, the understanding of the difficulties he had faced as he raised four children alone, and the knowledge of the people the five of them had become made April feel incredibly privileged to be a part of their family. Splinter had only twitched an ear when she told him so, but she knew he was immensely pleased to hear her say it.

And so the winter passed quietly this way. On and on through months of quiet, though it wasn’t always peaceful. Sometimes they would argue; more often they were bored. Many days they just slept, only getting up to tend the fire and check on the boys. Time was measured in how bright the snow shone outside, how fast the kindling burned, how the food slowly dwindled. After a longer period of time than April had anticipated, they began breaking up chairs from the dining room in preparation for when the wood stock ran out. Several times they had to build up or down the fire, shoving and pushing the rug the boys were sleeping on closer and farther away depending on whether their corner was too warm or too cold.

It wasn’t always peaceful.

But when Splinter called her over to the window and April saw a steady drip of water coming from the roof, she was both relieved at the change of pace and disappointed that it couldn’t last longer.

 

* * *

 

 

It froze once more before the temperature began to climb at a steady pace, and April and Splinter decided to wake the boys up. They built up the fire, hauled the turtle pile as close to it as they could, and waited. Donatello said it would take a while, and it did, but eventually they began to stir.

After months of peace and monotony, April felt like an electric coil, ready to spring up at any second. Splinter placed his hand on her arm and she felt his tenseness; he smiled when their eyes met. They both were excited for a little change of pace.

Leonardo was the first to stir, just barely; Splinter’s fingers tightened against her bicep and April – in a fit of madness, of glory, of happiness – had the most horrible idea.

April bent down and put her mouth next to Leo’s head, her whisper carrying across to all the boys.

“This may come as a bit of a shock…“

Leo’s brow furrowed, his limp limbs tensing at bit as he tried to wake up.

“…But you’ve been asleep for fifty years,” April said, making her voice tremble. Behind her Splinter suddenly coughed.

“You’re all old, you’ve grown beards; the collective drool of five decades has cemented you all together, you’re now one big mecha-turtle.”

Splinter snickered quietly, a very rat-like sound she knew she had never been allowed to hear before. The rest of the brothers were beginning to awaken as a soft, slow alarm dragged across Leo’s sleepy face.

“Splinter’s settled down with a nice girl and he’s gotten wiser than ever, he only speaks in puns and Star Wars quotes now. I’ve trained as a ninja, I’ve surpassed you all. You’ll have to learn how to fight again as a big turtle ball with legs sticking out – “

Mikey suddenly sprang up and flailed, his limbs caught up in a quilt.

“I don’t wanna be a turtle ball! I don’t wanna be a turtle ba – “

Raph shoved him hard and he fell out of the pile, blinking with sleep and confusion.

“What…”

Splinter gave up his efforts and began to laugh at their startled, panicky faces, and Leo shook himself from sleep enough to realize that he had been tricked. April grinned at him through tears, crying in mirth as he glared at her. She attempted to collect herself to apologize, but Raph grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down into the pile where she was then tightly wedged between him and Donatello.

“Raph, let go!”

“If I have to be cemented to Leo then so do you,” he murmured. April tried to push herself away but his arm just tightened around her torso.

“Jeeze, Raph, two-month morning breath.”

He declined to reply but nuzzled his face into her hair. She realized that this was probably the only time he’d be too sleepy to be self-conscious about cuddling her, and stopped trying to pull away. On her other side, Donatello slowly slid out from underneath his blanket, a long, soft moan escaping his throat as he rubbed his eyes. Mikey quickly shoved in behind him and took the warm spot he just vacated, wrapping himself in two quilts and curling up against April’s back.

“Cooolllddd…”

“Get up, Mike,” Leo said, though April noticed that he had not made much effort himself to leave the turtle pile. In response Mikey tried to octopus himself around April and Raphael, until Raph shoved a hand onto his face and pushed him off again. Standing above, Splinter handed Donnie a cup of rather watery instant coffee and he downed it in four short gulps, deftly taking and swallowing the cup in his father’s other hand as well.

“You drool in my hair and I’m putting you back in a coma,” April muttered into Raphael’s elbow. She was actually very comfortable, and Raph could tell, judging by the smirk she felt him press into her hair.

Leonardo finally rose, taking several quilts with him, to Mikey’s protest. He and Donnie quietly questioned Splinter on how things went, and he looked so young, draped in mismatched patchwork, with bags under his eyes and pallor to his skin. April snuggled further into Raph’s arms and pulled one of Mikey’s over her stomach, allowing him to cheerfully cuddle her.

“I’m really glad you’re awake,” she murmured. Neither said anything, but pulled her tighter.

It would be another twenty minutes before either brother could be convinced to leave the warmth of the remaining blankets and their warm-blooded friend, but eventually Donatello press-ganged everyone into helping him fix the pipes. He tried to work on the heather, but the problem wasn’t the unit; power was out for miles around, as April found out when she went to load the van with gas. Without his tools he decided to just leave it be, and within the week they had once more piled into the van; April was glad to hear their jokes again. Splinter alone sat up front, silently listening to his sons’ strong voices, and April was more than happy to join him.

 

* * *

 

 

Extra:

“So, how did you keep us hydrated? I hope it wasn’t too troublesome.”  
Behind Donnie, April heard Mikey stage-whisper _sponge baths, bro._

April had the sudden, intense memory of standing over the huge turtle pile holding a watering can of melted snow, like a gardener with the world’s ugliest patch of daisies. She immediately resolved never to tell anybody about that.

Behind both the brothers, Splinter shot her a quick smirk and April had to fight not to giggle.

“We managed,” she said succinctly.

 

* * *

 

 

A/N: My air conditioning broke and it’s ninety in my bedroom, so maybe that’s why I’m thinking of snow. I love cold, quiet winter mornings, even though we rarely have them where I live, and this chapter was sort of wishful thinking. Maybe not the whole no-power-no-plumbing bits, but the cold and the snow and the quiet….yeahhhhh.

That being said, I’ve never lived anywhere than actually got and _stayed_ cold during the winter, so everything here is all guesswork and could all be complete hogwash for all I know. We have a single snow day once every few years – it didn’t even freeze this winter – and if it does snow it usually melts over the course of the day. So I know nothing about long, heavy winters and what to do if the power goes out. Forgive me if I got it all wrong.

Splinter is one of my favorite characters and I love him in every show, every film. I like April, too, but I wish that she would be explored a bit more, and I’d love more Splinter + April interaction. Anybody who’s read my Kung Fu Panda fics knows that I’m a huge fan of non-sexual intimacy and platonic displays of closeness, which was another thing I was trying to explore here. If it came off as shippy to anybody, please mention it because I really was not going for that and I’d like to fix it if so. Here, they’re just buddies.

This takes place in no particular universe; it’s a bit of a mish-mash of all or several of them. I kind of see them mixed between the 2012 and 2014 versions. Let’s just forget that April has a job or school or whatever, and also say that the criminal element of New York was staying in for the winter.

 This was initially inspired by April’s ‘turtle-ball’ trick, which was a shower thought, but for her and Splinter to be BFFs for the winter I got inspired by Amicitia Revenants’s fic _Dark Winter_. The ‘little old lady collecting pieces of string’ thing is from Discworld. _Guards, Guards,_ I believe.

 


End file.
